Bloody and Broken
by xRestlessme
Summary: Sometimes in his dreams, he whispers back yes. spoilers for season 2. Morgana/Merlin


She only comes at night. When darkness is at its fullest and his body is tired from the day's work. She comes when he is tired of shining armor and saving that prat's life numerous times. He falls to bed with a smile because he has never worked so hard in his life and the feeling is good. He and Arthur are two sides of a coin, without the other they are bendable…weak, _so_ weak.

"_You could rule with me, think of the things we could do Merlin_," she whispers in his dreams, a sport of seduction. Words that string a mantra in his mind, repeated throughout the day without even knowing. All he remembers are her hands frantically pushing away at him as realization slowly dawns upon her. Those same hands beginning to cling as the world darkens around her and he can feel his heart sinking all in the same breath.

Sometimes in his dreams, he whispers back yes. He takes her hand, cool in his own and steps over the cliff with her because she says they will fly. Sometimes in his dreams, he screams no, yells how her betrayal stings Arthur, Arthur who finds comfort in the embrace of a maid. In his dreams he screams at her until the magic in him boils his very blood and her eyes flash red. The dreams always end differently, but still her deception seeps into him even more.

"_Oh Merlin…really, you think that Arthur wouldn't kill you if Uther commanded it?" _she teases. Hair falls over her shoulder in thick curls, curls that move like the snakes of Medusa. He could be turned to stone looking at her and never know if he truly would care. In his (her?) dream, she is uninhabited, proudly jumping from table to table. She's always wearing forest green, green silks that morph in the light to reveal the faces of screaming people (the fabric is silk with blood). She laughs in his face, throws back her head, whole body shakes with the force of it. She looks back at him, eyes a startling blue_bloodthecolorofblood. _He cannot speak, enthralled by the waves of magic that assault him, he drinks in the feeling of having someone like him; strong.

"_Arthur would snap your neck as soon as he was told. He's a child vying for a father's love,"_ she murmured, her hand drawing lines across his cheek. Her nail digs deep into the skin, he shivers with the pain. _"A father who loved me only in words, he could never love what _we_ are."_ Morgana is every bit the monster she was destined to be in his dreams, dancing in blood that never stops falling from all around them. Sometimes he fears what she has become, a product of magic much too strong. Other times (most of the time), he pities her (desires her).

The assault upon him continues for years as her name becomes the stuff of nightmares in the stoned walls of Camelot. As their King damns her very name in public and blames himself behind closed doors, doors that are soon attacked with all types of glass that shatters upon the ground in pools of wine red as the blood she spills with a smile. Merlin knows the dreams take a toll on him, everything about him.

Gaius makes no reference to the black under his eyes, the scars that appear overnight. He makes no reference to the whimpers that leave his apprentice's lips at night, words of magic that leave his mouth in the middle of the night (when shadows cling to the walls and laugh).

"_Where is Morgause?"_ he finally questions, voice cracking from disuse in their 'world'. Morgana pauses in her practice of swordplay, turning. She looks every much the insane sorceress as she slowly sets down the sword red with blood. He's never sure if the blood is her own or his, but it's always there; a definite like his own beating heart. Her breeches become swimming silks of reds and greens as if they always were as she sits in Uther's own throne.

"_Morgause?"_ she questions as if not fully understanding the name. Familiarity dawns in her gaze as the corner of her lips quirk upwards. _"We've decided to go our own ways. Don't worry though Merlin, I think you were fond of her, right? I gave her a proper burial benefitting of my sister,"_ she explains, bursting into laughter that rings like silver bells on snowy days. Snowy days dotted with rotting flesh and the stink of blood filling the air, stained by her very name.

His throat is dry and aches from the feel of his bones snapping, a testament to Morgana's earlier prediction. His magic calls to her so strongly his eyes burn gold.

"_What if I said yes, to help you kill Uther? Would you kill Arthur also,"_ he whispered, eyes drawn to the black edges around her eyes. Edges that mirrored the own around his, if he squinted his could see the blackness of her magic. The heavy thing that weighed him down and refused to allow him movement, magic that left him gasping for air and heart racing.

Morgana surged against the throne, eyes closing as she grinned.

"_Merlin if you said yes…I would do anything you wished, so long as you help me with this,"_ she laughed, drawing him towards her with a beckoning finger. The walls around them began to weather with each step he took, stone eroding (molding). Standing before her, he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from his throat at the pure enjoyment upon her face. A face he had last seen in the throes of betrayal, gasping for any air left in her body.

"_I would give you the world,"_ she whispered, extending her hand. Grasping cold digits within his own, he pulled her up, watching as she stumbled slightly in her hurry. Something other than magic burns hot in his gut boils his blood with other emotions that send his heart hammering.

She looks up at him through thick eyelashes, a face that spells disaster for many men. He isn't sure if he cares, they can be two sides; two sides of a blade so sharp.

He surges forward, wraps his fingers through sin so dark it stains him forevermore. She smiles against his lips, fingers twist so hard in his hair strands rip out.

"_I would give you the world, bloody and broken."_


End file.
